


(You Taste) Like A Forest On Fire

by snsk, thelostrocketeer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelostrocketeer/pseuds/thelostrocketeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Harry have hate sex. (Basically. Written over twitter, where we used the word "member" over and over again and it was hilarious.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	(You Taste) Like A Forest On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Written by [snsk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk) and I last year over twitter. Italics are hers.

Harry looks across the room at his blonde companion.

His face is flushed and his pale hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. His breathing is laboured and he wears a wicked smirk on his pointed face.

“Had enough yet, Potter?” he spits out scathingly.

 _Harry is panting, breathing even harder than Malfoy, if that’s possible, like he’s just run a race. But he snarls, tells Malfoy, “Not nearly,” and leaps at him again._ His body slams into Malfoy and they’re rolling on the ground again. Malfoy claws at his back and knees Harry in the side. Harry takes a moment to regain his breath and pins the lithe blonde beneath him down fast.

“Merlin, you’re such a fighter,” he presses down and suddenly Malfoy can’t breathe, Harry weighing at least a stone more than him, all hard muscle. “Gerrofme you giant oaf!” yells Malfoy.

 _“D’you surrender?” Harry asks cheerfully. Malfoy glares, steely grey eyes burning into Harry’s like they can lift him off with the sheer force of will. “No,” he snaps. “Okay,” Harry says, “I’ve got all day”. He grips Malfoy’s wrists hard, above his head._ He dips his head down so their noses almost touch and whispers almost menacingly, “all fucking day”.

He starts chucking and pulls out his wand.

“What in the name of Merlin’s balls are you doing, Potter?” demands Malfoy, a hint of fear creeping into his voice despite himself.

_“Nothing,” Harry says, perfectly polite, “if you say you surrender”._

_He touches the tip of his want to Malfoy’s cheek, watches him flinch; this is Harry like Malfoy’s rarely seen him before: wild, reckless, not-quite-in-control and Malfoy hates to admit it, but it’s kind of- well. He struggles even harder now, needing Harry to get off right now, but Harry only laughs._

 “Come on, say it. Follow after me- I. Surrender. See how simple it is?” says Harry, calm, gentle, his wand tracing patterns on Malfoy’s sweat stained face. “Or maybe you shouldn’t say it, and I can do to you what I’ve wanted to do for the past two years,” he says suddenly. A wicked grin appears on his usually angelic face and he starts to count.

“One, two, three, four, five..”

_Malfoy knows the sensible course of action would be to surrender, to let it go, but his mouth is dry and won’t seem to open and also there’s an uncoiling sort of heat growing in his stomach which leaves him just a bit more breathless and he- he needs to know what Harry will do so he lies, not even struggling, as Harry finishes counting._

“Eight, nine,” Harry counts, drawing out the penultimate number. “Ten. Well, well, well,” mutters Harry, his voice suddenly gravel filled. He whispers something under his breath and suddenly Malfoy can’t move his hands and torso. Harry pushes himself up so he’s straddling Malfoy.

“Well, well, well,” he tuts. He looks Malfoy in the eye and he can see that his green eyes are moss-dark and are hard and steely as ice. _Malfoy has something to say, he really does, but all he manages is "Um," and how did he manage to lose control of this situation this dramatically?_

_"You don't surrender," murmurs Harry, and against every bit of good sense and self-preservation he possesses, Malfoy mutters, "Never." "Good," says Harry, and then he's leaning down and kissing him._

A million and one thoughts race through Malfoy's mind but they all mean the same thing-Harry Potter is kissing me. His body is on top of me, and he's kissing me. Me. Oh. God.

Malfoy dares a peep into those savage green eyes and he can feel Harry smirking against his lips. Suddenly Harry bites down on Malfoy's lower lip and he can taste the coppery tang of his own blood. His grey eyes open wide, his body betrays him and suddenly he's kissing back. Harry's tongue is in his mouth and it's sending waves of lust down to his pants. Just as he collects his thoughts Harry pulls back. With a smirk he says, "I've always wanted to do that. And also, this". He unbuttons Malfoy’s shirt and proceeds to lick a trail from the top of Malfoy’s trousers to the meeting point of his hair and forehead, his tongue dipping obscenely into Malfoy's navel, over his lips and nose.

_Malfoy can't move, can't even squirm, bound by the Petrificus curse: all he can do is kiss back, desperate, and take whatever Harry feels like giving him. Harry's tongue is wet, and rough; it swirls deliciously over Malfoy's skin and Malfoy can feel desire burning in his every cell. He desperately wants to move, to fist Harry's hair, anything, but there's nothing he can do as Harry slowly unbuttons the top of his jeans._

As Harry unzips his fly, he bends over and inhales the musty smell of the dark blonde curls peeking out. He mouths at the skin there and Malfoy can only let out a half strangled moan. He whimpers and Harry chuckles, sending a buzz of heat down a few centimetres to his cock

_Harry looks up, eyes dark, lit with something Malfoy can only describe as profound evil, and then he dips his head down and licks, tentatively at first, and Malfoy loses track of coherency, mind wiped clean of anything even akin to words, and he wonders, before sinking into mind-numbing pleasure, how the hell Harry got so good at this._

He can feel himself get harder and harder and thank the stars that Harry’s undone his trousers because it would have hurt like hell. “You taste so good, what do they feed you down there in the dungeons?” mutters Harry to himself in between wet slurps. Malfoy can feel Harry poking through his jeans and manages a throaty, “it costs more than you’ll ever know,” before he loses control again and starts writhing beneath Harry’s mouth and body and glorious, glorious tongue.

_He’s close to completion, he can feel it; Harry’s wicked tongue pushing him mercilessly over the edge. He gasps, “"Harry," and Harry looks up, just to smirk, and say, "Oh, it's Harry now, is it?" Malfoy says, "Harry," again, needing- needing those delicious swipes again, but Harry looks at him, considering, and says, "Beg."_

Malfoy shoots daggers at him, but Harry only laughs. "Beg," he reiterates. "Beg and then promise you'll suck me off and then ask me to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for days." Harry's voice is predatory, his gaze burning with lust and hatred at the same time.

Malfoy needs it, the sweet release, but to be fucked by Harry fucking Potter? "No," croaks out Malfoy, weakly. "No? Alright, then.” Harry stands up turns to leave.

Suddenly Malfoy needs Harry's tongue, and also to unhex him so he can leave but mostly his tongue and just as Harry's hand is on the doorknob he hears a small, almost fearful, "Please, Harry. Please lick me and let me suck you off and please fuck me so hard i can't walk properly, please, Harry."

 _Harry smirks, smirks terrifyingly, and in that moment Malfoy can't understand how he was put in Gryffindor- he's evil, so evil, the Sorting Hat is so, so stupid. "Good boy," he purrs, low and soft, at Malfoy, sending yet another shock wave of electricity to his groin, and he walks slowly back over and drops gracefully to his knees._ Harry starts licking, his tongue making the tender skin above Malfoy's  cock raw and even that is enough to make Draco try and thrust upwards.

"Now, now, we can't have that, can we?" says Harry, in a singsong voice. He mutters again and Malfoy can't move his hips and when did that blasted git get so good at wand-less magic?

Harry pulls Draco's trousers and pants down lower and starts to lick everywhere, everywhere except Malfoy's cock and Malfoy can swear his life flashes before him. Soon he's leaking and he's almost over the edge when Harry, smirking maliciously, his green eyes burning into Malfoy’s grey ones, breathes a hot breath on him, and Malfoy explodes, coming over himself and Harry and his thousand galleon trousers.

_Harry licks his lips slowly, obscenely, cleaning Malfoy off him. “My turn,” he informs Malfoy, and he touches his wand to his fingers, mutters a spell, and then Malfoy can feel them, cool and slick, slowly pressing into him. His eyes widen._

_This is new, this is foreign, he’s never- “Shh,” Harry soothes._ He slowly, slowly pulls his fingers in and out and Malfoy can feel himself opening wider, and it’s painful and he almost can’t bear it but then suddenly Harry adds another finger and presses in deeper and suddenly he hits something deeps inside Malfoy and he can only yell out at the new sensations pulsing through him.

_“You like that, don’t you.” Harry says, not a question, as he works his fingers systematically, so cruelly, inside Malfoy. “You like being prepared for me, me spreading you open, you love it, don’t you, Draco. What would Lucius say if he saw the only heir to the Malfoy line being used like this, I wonder?” He twists his fingers almost viciously in Malfoy, and Malfoy gasps. “Now ask for it. Beg. Say please, like the good little whore you are._

Malfoy can feel a million different nerve endings going off and he whispers, “Please. Oh, Merlin, please. Harry, please, I beg you.” Then suddenly as Harry’s explorations began, he withdraws his digits and Malfoy feels empty, so empty, and he whimpers like a lost puppy.

“I- I said please, Harry.” “Yes you did. But I’m not ready yet, myself,” says Harry as he unzips his muggle jeans and his half erect cock springs free. He sighs in relief and strokes himself once. He then pulls a chair from one of the desks and sits on it, legs spread. He mutters again and Malfoy can move, but it’s like there’s an invisible leash around his throat, dragging him towards Harry. “Now, suck me.”

_In some other far-off universe Malfoy would have protested. Said something about Malfoys and Standards and No. But now he’s being dragged, helpless, and he finds he doesn’t mind. In fact, there’s a rather big part of him that likes this, being used like this. The shame. The humiliation. Malfoy despairs at himself. “Suck,” demands Harry, at his most imperious, pushing Malfoy’s head forward, and Malfoy does._

He opens his mouth, tentatively, and puts his lips around Harry. He can feel the veins on the underside of Harry’s cock throbbing against his bottom lip as he sucks in his cheeks. “Use your tongue as well, you bloody little ponce,” demands Harry, his voice tinted with badly veiled lust and annoyance _. Malfoy spares him a glare before thinking I might as well do this properly, and he swirls his tongue around the head of Harry's cock, before drawing his head back a little, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. Then he opens his mouth and swallows up as much as Harry as he can take. Harry tastes like salt and sweat and Harry, all Harry, and as Malfoy traces lazy patterns along the underside, flicks his tongue over the slit, he cries out, and oh- Malfoy could get used to this._

Harry is moaning and writhing and his hands are in Malfoy's hair and he can feel his blood pooling in his lower abdomen again and he wonders, for the thousandth time, how the hell did this happen? He'd only wanted to prove he was a superior dueller yet he'd ended up on all fours, his shirt undone, trousers and pants halfway down his legs, sucking off The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Torment-Draco-Malfoy. He can taste Harry's pre-cum and then his head is yanked back. "I think I'm ready now," says Harry in an almost Malfoy-worthy drawl.

" _On your hands and knees," Harry commands, and Malfoy obeys, without any real thought about it. And then there's something_ _nudging at his entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscle there. He resists at first: it's a bit painful, foreign, too big; but Harry says, "Shh," soothing, and "Relax," and Malfoy tries to._

It’s like someone put a fire into Malfoy where Harry’s cock should be, it’s burning and he can only bite his tongue as Harry pushes in, slowly. When he’s completely buried in Malfoy, he pauses and moans, “bloody hell, you bastard, Merlin, Malfoy, how’d you get so tight?” before he starts to pull out.

He’s halfway out when he pushes in again, faster this time and this time, Malfoy has to yell. _Because- it still hurts, and who invented this terrible method of torture, and why had they come up with such a thing? But then Harry thrusts abruptly, hard, and hits that- that sweet, secret spot and Malfoy can see stars, the pleasure is that intense. And Merlin, this was why people had invented this, and Harry does it again, and again, and again, until Malfoy is a writhing, moaning, utter wreck._

“You like that, don’t you,” grunts Harry, “you like me slamming into you, making you moan, you filthy whore.” Malfoy can only press into Harry, aching for more, and he can feel himself dripping, sweat and pre-cum and suddenly Harry is touching him. Harry has his fingers around Malfoy’s cock and he’s touching him and squeezing, and rubbing up and down, and it’s almost too much for Malfoy.

_The sensations, Harry’s hand and Harry’s cock, Harry, all Harry, stroking him and filling him and Malfoy is dangerously close to the edge, mind numb and he can only feel. “Say my name,” Harry pants, behind him, and Malfoy manages a broken- “Ha- Harry,” and apparently that’s all Harry needs because he’s coming, inside Malfoy, filling him deep with slick warmth and a few seconds later Malfoy follows suit, spilling himself over Harry’s hand._

Harry slumps over Malfoy and he can feel Harry’s heart racing and his own is not any better and they stay that way until they’ve slowed down. Harry pulls out and he can feel Harry’s cum dripping out of himself, burning a warm trail over his over-sensitized skin. Malfoy flops over face down, then rolls over to face Harry, just in time to see him mix their cum together in his palm and lick it off. “Yum,” drawls Harry, his magical tongue poking out, licking his lips and bloody hell.

 _“Fuck,” says Malfoy, and Harry laughs, low and lazy. “Exactly,” he says. Malfoy looks down at himself, unravelled and so utterly satisfied, and then he looks at Harry. Harry smiles. “Same time tomorrow, then?” he asks._ Malfoy considers thoughtfully. To be fucked senseless by Harry fucking Potter, again?

“I’ll be here. Waiting,” he says, nodding _._

End.


End file.
